Mallory's Melody

Chapter 23

"YES, ERIC. WE FOUND HIM LYING IN THE DRIVEWAY this morning, unconscious and bruised all over."

Mallory winced, unable to register William's words, that Eric Rossi, the guy she'd danced into the night with just yesterday was unconscious? She rubbed her temples and held on to the armrest of her chair for support, fighting off the wave of vertigo gaining on her. It was impossible. She'd walked Eric Rossi to his car that night, she'd hugged him and wished him goodbye, and now he was unconscious?

Perhaps William had mistaken Eric for another Eric, not the one she'd seen last night, the one she hadn't pulled into her arms, the one she hadn't laughed with and—

"Careful there." William steadied her with his arm. "Someone get me water, quick!"

"It's not possible," Mallory swallowed. "I saw him last night, I—"

"We don't know exactly what happened Mallory, all we know is that someone really took it out on him last night. But thank goodness, he's okay now, receiving treatment."

Relief coursed through Mallory's body, but the effect of her shock remained, the incredulity. She still couldn't believe it. Why in the world would someone attack Eric Rossi, as sweet and cordial as he was, and the move had to have been taken the moment she turned her back on him. It seemed contrived, planned, leaving trails of suspicion. But as much as that provoked her thoughts, she was complacent enough knowing he was in good condition.."Thank goodness he's okay."

"Not with broken ribs, he's not—" William redirected a waitress to Mallory's dresser. "—Drop the water over there.  He won't be able to perform Mal." His eyes drooped. "And that means you too won't be able to perform. I mean, considering that one criterion of this audition is to have a partner."

Mallory's heart ran a marathon. At first, she was relieved to hear Eric was okay, but the repercussions following his attack became more glaring. Eric was badly injured—at least judging by the seriousness on William's face—and that in turn meant her automatic elimination from the auditions. She sank into her chair. But what if she got a new partner who would accompany her on the stage? She'd still be in the auditions, wouldn't she? Mallory shook her head. Where would she find someone who knew the choreography to heart as well as Eric did, who was as deeply connected to her, as Eric Rossi was? She simply couldn't, and perchance she got someone, she would still lose. She was too emotionally unstable to deliver a good performance.

The room suddenly appeared less spacious, the walls caving in on her. Could her dreams come to a stop in just one moment? All her time and effort melted into futility. Mallory sighed heavily and forced back the dam forcing to break out of her eyes.

"Here, have some water." William handed her a mug. She hesitated for a minute, but took it from his large hands and stared into the cup, suddenly wishing she could drown in the crystal-clear water hovering over. At least that was better than drowning in the pit of her worries, a pit that seemed endless. Mallory bowed her head. This was it, wasn't it? The end of the road for her, of Starlight Academy, at last. The time to kiss her dreams goodbye.

She'd known it was too good to be true, anyway. She was nothing, a nobody who, by some twist of fate, was lucky to have seen a glimpse of success without ever having to work for it. Luck pitied her, and now luck too saw her for what she was, a person undeserving of its benevolence. A fraud.

She rubbed her thumb across the image imprinted on the face of the mug and sighed, the force of the dam in her eyes multiplying by the minute, fighting for dominance, breakthrough. Mallory tightened her lip, unable to resist the flow of tears. But then her attention was diverted to the image etched onto the mug. It was the face of that same woman she'd seen on the first day she came to Starlight, the one she recognized in that frame the day she met Kathy. And now here she was again, her benign face in between Mallory's hands, an eerily familiar glint glimmering in her blue indigo eyes. And Mallory thought it creepy, unnerving even, that the same inscription was etched into the face of the cup, Jane Anderson (1973-2000), the very Jane she remembered Cole speaking of! Mallory squinted closer, feeling an odd sense of familiarity about this woman, a sort of connection with her, an affection so strong that it was nearly palpable.